New Wings

by Donna Stanley

  Mac led us to a large, cheery kitchen that smelled of freshly made bread and chicken noodle soup. So far nothing seemed scary.

  Mac gestured toward two round ladies in bright floral aprons and hairnets, one bent over a large sink, the other slicing a loaf of bread. “This is Millie and Barb.”

  They greeted us with rosy-cheeked smiles bearing deep laugh lines.

  “I’m Millie,” the taller one said as she wiped her hands on her apron and smoothed gray hairs from her forehead. “We’re honored to have you with us today.” She folded her hands across her full belly. “You’ll be meeting a variety of folks today. Don’t let them frighten you. Just remember they are hurting people, and you’re soothing some of their pain by filling their stomachs. Offer a smile. That’s more love than most of them get in a week.”

  I could smile. That wouldn’t be hard. But what if one of them spoke to me? What would I say?

  Millie walked us to a long counter with stacks of trays, Styrofoam bowls, plastic silverware, loaves of white bread, and a vat of steaming soup. “I know some of you have done this before, but any who are new—one of you can hand out the trays; two can give out the bowls, napkins, and silverware; and two can hand out the bread and spoon soup into bowls. The rest of you can help with clean-up by clearing tables and throwing out trash, then wiping them clean for the next folks. If you need anything, come find me here in the kitchen area.”

  Eden’s dad gave each of us a task based on the arrangement Millie had given. Since we were new, Christina and I were assigned to clean up the dining area. Eden got to spoon out the soup with her dad. I would’ve preferred handing out bowls or bread so I could hide behind the counter. I had no desire to be out there mingling with the homeless people. But I knew God had me in this position for a reason. Maybe He’d send a special person for me to encourage. So I stood by one of the folding tables set up in three rows across the dining area with folding chairs surrounding them.

  Christina stood beside me with a bucket and two washcloths in her hands. She set it on the floor by the wall so no one would trip over it.

  We exchanged glances as we waited for Mac to open the door for the people to enter. Christina elbowed me in the side. “Here we go. We’ll stick together.” Maybe she could sense my fear.

  When Mac unlocked the door the first person who entered had a dirty white beard, wore dark green clothing, and used crutches because he only had one leg. I winced inside. It was like I was standing in that train station again with my mother. Then I remembered Mike’s disguise, and the memory fled. It could be an angel. Or just a nice old man. Or Mike!

  It’s him.

  I heard Jesus’ words reverberate in my spirit. It was no mistake that God sent this person through the door first, knowing I would need the right perspective from the get-go.

  He hobbled over to where I stood by one of the tables.

  I grinned. “Hi, Mi-—I mean, sir.” I caught myself, still caught up in the mental vision of Mike turning into a homeless person. Maybe it was him.

  “Hello, miss.” He winked. I guessed he didn’t want me to use his name when other people were close enough to listen.

  I led him to a table and helped him sit down, holding his plate and cup for him as he got comfortable. “Thanks for being here,” I whispered.

  I waited to see if the old man would look at me like I was loopy.

  “I thought you could use a cheerleader today.” It was Mike!

  Christina approached. “Can I bring you some soup and bread, sir?”

  I straightened. “Actually, this is . . . ” I looked to Mike, wondering what to say. “ . . . a friend of mine.”

  Mike stuck out his hand. “Captain Michael, at your service.”

  She shook it and shot me a questioning look. Either she wondered if this was my angel, Mike, or she was surprised I’d jumped in so quickly to introduce this man to her so enthusiastically.

  “Um . . . he’s a war hero,” I said. Well, he is.

  I shot an exaggerated wink at Christina, and she gave me an “I gotcha” look.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Christina said. She shot me another look as she walked away.

  Mike smirked. “Fancy wording there, Liv.”

  “Well, you are a war hero. You saved my dad in the spiritual war. And me—several times.”

  “Quite true.”

  I returned to the soup line to help a lady with a walker who was having a hard time holding her tray. “I’ll help you with that.”

  She looked out from behind cloudy eyes surrounded by sagging eyelids. “Thank you, dear.”

  Eden handed me two cookies wrapped in cellophane. “That gentleman forgot his cookies.” She pointed in the direction of Mike.

  “I can take that to him.” I shoved them in my hoodie pocket and led the lady to a table nearest to the food so she would not have to walk far. I put the tray down, then folded up her walker for her as she balanced herself on the folding chair. I placed it against the wall by the table, then put my arm around her to help her get seated. A pungent smell hit my nostrils.

  Ignore it, Liv!

  Once she was settled I helped place her napkin on her lap. She looked up at me, and there were pools of tears on her lower eyelids. I gulped.

  Why was she crying? All I did was help her carry her food and seat her.

  Maybe you’re the first person to ever lift a finger for her. Have you thought of that?

  In a shaky voice she said, “Thank you for your kindness.”

  Feeling my own eyes mist over, I swallowed and replied, “You’re very welcome. Enjoy your meal. I’ll be here if you need anything.” I patted her shoulder softly as she turned to plunge her spoon into her soup.

  How could something I dreaded so much touch me so deeply and cause me happiness I’d never felt before? I felt euphoric.

  That’s what it feels like when you are serving another, selflessly, in My name.

  I turned around to check on Mike, but as I did I noticed people pouring through the door and taking seats faster than they had since we started. I had no time to chat with Mike. There were so many others. They were of all colors and personalities. Some young, some old. A couple of them talked to each other, but most stood staring straight ahead, waiting their turn in line.

  See them as I see them. Don’t see the clothing, or the faces. See the hearts. Each is a special individual created by Me. I love each one as deeply as I love you.

  Some left, and as they did I gathered trash and wiped down the tables where they had been. They began to fill the tables quickly, so Christina and I sped up our pace to keep up.

  I passed Mike at one point, wondering if he had eaten anything. I’d never seen him eat anything before, not even when he helped me make those yummy goodies for Eden’s date with Ty. He’d only tasted my sauce.

  “I’m getting such a kick out of watching you and Christina doing such a great job.” He stood up and pushed in his chair as if to show me he was leaving. He stopped, looked behind him, then turned back to me. “Hey, look at that girl over there.”

  I glanced in the direction he’d just scanned and saw a teenage girl approaching the table where Mike had been. When I turned back around I didn’t see my guardian angel anywhere. His table and food were left untouched.

  It had been so comforting knowing Mike was there. Would I be OK without him around?

  With Me, nothing is impossible.

  I trust You, God. I meant it.

  The girl wore torn jeans, but I doubted hers were distressed to be fashionable. Her short black hair had a white streak alongside long bangs.

  She slurped soup with her head low, letting her hair fall over her face.

  She sat alone, away from the others.

  I grabbed Mike’s tray and took it back to the kitchen.

  Barb, one of the aproned ladies, was stooped over a large sink, washing huge, stainless steel pots. I could not find Millie, so I tapped on her shoulder. She turned around and wiped her hands on her apron an
d smiled widely. “What can I do for you, sweetie?”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt. This tray of food was uneaten. What should I do with it?”

  “Oh!” She gestured for me to follow her as if she had a secret to show me. Her round figure wobbled between shelving on either side of a long hallway in the back area of the kitchen. She reached down and pulled out a brown paper bag. “We’ll save that for my pets at home. We can’t reserve the food once it’s been served.”

  She grabbed the tray and placed the bread and cookies into the bag, then produced a Ziploc bag and proceeded to dump the uneaten soup into it.

  “How nice. Nothing goes to waste. What kind of pets do you have?”

  “Oh, just about anything that comes around looking for a handout. Cats, dogs, birds.” She chuckled. “They’re my family. My husband died of cancer five years ago. All my kids are grown and moved away. All I’ve got are my animals and the people here at the mission. And I love them all.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear about your husband. And that is so sweet how you take care of strays. I used to do that when I was growing up.”

  “Aw, dear girl, we are kindred spirits, now, aren’t we?” She held my one hand and clasped it between both of hers. “Thanks for serving today. I hope you find joy in sharing this little time with those that others try to ignore.”

  “I’m so glad I came. I’ve already been blessed by the people here. All of them.”

  “I better get back to my pots!”

  I turned back and returned to the sink, listening to Barb’s pantyhose swishing as she followed.

  Millie was in the kitchen, opening bags of bread at the counter that looked out over the dining area.

  “Millie, I know it’s busy, but can I take about five minutes to sit and talk with one of the people out there?” I asked.

  She reached out and touched my elbow. “Why, of course, dear. I’ll cover for you.”

  She handed me a chocolate-chip cookie wrapped in cellophane from a shelf above her and smiled. “Go on. That one”—she pointed to the girl I was referring to—“needs some cheer.”

  My eyes widened in amazement.

  How’d she read my mind? I bet she’s very good at spotting ones who need special help. She’s been doing this for quite a while.

  Christina was cleaning up the table next to the one I was headed to.

  I sat across from the girl and held out the cookie. She grabbed it and mumbled, “Thanks.”

  “I’m Olivia. Over there is my friend Christina.” I turned and pointed at her. Christina waved in our direction. “What’s your name?”

  She peered up, only one eye visible from beneath the long bangs.

  “Angel.”

  I almost choked. Surely this wasn’t another of Mike’s disguises. “How old are you?”

  “Seventeen,” she said as she chewed a chunk of bread.

  “Is this your first time here?”

  “Nah.” She took another sip of soup, then broke off a chunk of bread and dunked it in her bowl.

  Apparently this girl didn’t want to share anything about her personal life. Obviously she did not want to talk to a stranger. Instead of making her feel singled out I said, “Hey, you’re the first teenager I’ve seen here today, so I thought I’d say hi.”

  Then I went with a safe question. “You got a favorite band?”

  “Devil’s Opposition.”

  Christina glanced at me with a grin as she passed in front of me, a stack of plates piled in her arms. She stopped. “Did you say Devil’s Opposition?”

  Angel looked up at Christina and set down her spoon. “Yeah. You like them?”

  “I love them. They’re playing at a music festival in the area this April.

  It’s free.”

  “Really?” she asked with a note of sarcasm.

  “A church is sponsoring it.”

  Uh-oh. Hope that doesn’t chase her away.

  Angel pushed her hair out of her face. “I thought the only music Christians listened to was organ music.”

  “Gosh, no,” I said. “There are as many kinds of Christian music as what you hear on the radio. You should come to the festival.”

  She shrugged. “Sounds cool.”

  I pointed to Eden. “The girl serving soup can give you all the details.”

  Then I added, “We’ll both be there, so if you go, try to find us. We’ll have staff T-shirts on.”

  She finally cracked a smile.

  “Well, I hope we see you at the festival. I have to get back to clearing tables. Millie has been filling in for me. Bye.”

  Angel waved at me, then picked up her spoon and bent over her soup bowl again.

  I grabbed a few trays people had left after finishing their lunch and took them to the kitchen to be washed. When I came out I saw Angel standing near the serving line, talking to Eden, who handed her a brochure from her purse on the floor behind where she’d been working. The girl shoved it into the back pocket of her jeans and moved toward the exit.

  God, I hope she comes to the concert. Help her find You there.

  I cleaned up Angel’s tray and trash, then headed to the kitchen and picked up a new washcloth to wipe down some tables since mine was getting very soiled. When I returned to the dining area Angel was gone.

  As more people crowded the dining room, Christina and I hustled to keep up. We didn’t talk to any other people, except to say hello and offer a smile, because there were so many of them. No other teenagers showed up. But a few little children accompanied some of the young women who came in. I caught their eyes and smiled at them all and made sure they had cookies when I passed by their tables attending to my task.

  When I boarded the bus that afternoon I felt a sense of satisfaction. I’d conquered my fear of homeless people. God let me see them through His eyes.

  Christina plopped down on the seat in front of me, her face beaming.

  “That was great. We really helped people today, didn’t we?”

  “Yeah, we did. I’m glad you invited me to come along.”

  “Me too.”

  As Eden joined Christina, I thanked God for stretching my faith.

  Then I wondered, What would He do to stretch my faith next?

  Chapter 23

  INEEDED TO BE at the festival in a half hour. I dressed quickly, threw my hair into a ponytail, dusted on some makeup, and bolted toward the door to the garage.

  “Don’t you want some breakfast?” Mom asked as I grabbed my backpack.

  “No time.”

  She handed me a piece of toast with some peanut butter on it. I popped it into my mouth to hold it as I grabbed my purse and keys and headed to my car.

  Mike sat in the passenger seat. “Ready for today?”

  “Yes . . . and no,” I said through a mouthful of bread and peanut butter.

  “I’ll be with you every step of the way. Did you put on your armor this morning?”

  “No. I woke up late.”

  “Why not take some time to talk to your heavenly Father now?” Mike vanished.

  As I drove, I talked with the Maker of the universe. I recalled a Sunday school song I memorized as a kid based on the Bible verses in Ephesians 6:13–17, which talk about the armor of God. I pictured myself putting on an actual suit of armor as I thought of each phrase of the song. I mentally shod my feet with the preparation of peace. I took up my sword of the Spirit and my shield of faith. I put on my breastplate of righteousness and the helmet of salvation. I prayed for God to protect me. By the time I pulled into the parking lot at the festival grounds, I felt ready for battle.

  I took a spot beside where Eden was parked. She leaned against the hood of her car, her arms folded and her foot tapping. Eden was always early. I was chronically late.

  I got out of my Honda and gave her a serious look. “We’ve got to pray hard today. The devil is going to do whatever he can to stop what God wants to do here.”

  “I know. We’ve already had four cameras stop working and a speak
er blow out.”

  I put a hand on each of Eden’s shoulders and prayed, “Father, empower us with Your Holy Spirit to do the job we need to do today. Protect us from evil. Thwart the schemes of the enemy to cause confusion and distraction so the message of the music and the speakers is heard by those who attend.”

  Eden’s tense muscles loosened a little, and she uncrossed her arms.

  After I said, “Amen,” I removed my hands from Eden’s shoulders.

  Eden heaved a sigh. “‘I’d say you’ll do your best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, . . . ’ right (Phil. 4:8)? I just read that in my Bible this morning, but I guess I forgot it already.”

  “I know what you mean.” I decided to focus on my job for the day. First thing I had to do was find Samantha and find out who I needed to report to. Samantha had left me a voicemail on my cell phone last week to let me know what my assignment would be. I was really looking forward to shooting T-shirts into the crowd and operating a camera.

  Women under a tent to the right of the stage prepared hot dogs and hamburgers on grills by the concession stand. I was instantly hungry and hoped I got a break at some point to sample their cooking. I pitied them standing over hot coals on such a scorching day. In Maryland, April could feel like the middle of summer occasionally. I’d heard on the radio that it was forecast to reach ninety degrees. I already felt sweat trickling down the center of my back.

  My cousin Samantha approached us. “Hi, girls. I’m glad you’re here.” She gave us our staff T-shirts and all-access passes. “Wear these at all times.”

  We put the T-shirts on over our clothes and hung the lanyards around our necks. I felt so official. I hoped I’d get to meet some of the band members or speakers.

  Samantha checked the clipboard in her hand, running her finger along the print. “Olivia, you’ll be on camera one, stage right.” She handed me a blue sheet of paper. “Here’s the schedule for when I need you onstage. Jake will fill in for you on camera when you come on stage for hype crew.”

  The page showed what times all the bands would be performing. The hype crew would be launching T-shirts and water balloons between each act.